


citizen, my mother is the sea

by steelplatedhearts



Series: where there is no more hope, the sea remains [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Pirate AU, Pirates of the Caribbean AU, lady!courfeyrac, parrot!Bossuet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:06:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1695875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelplatedhearts/pseuds/steelplatedhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosette Fauchelevent is the daughter of the governor of Port Royal, and for the most part, leads a charmed life. That all changes when the infamous pirate Montparnasse, captain of Marianne’s Revenge, kidnaps her. Marius Pontmercy, a blacksmith, must work with pirate Alexandre Enjolras to rescue her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Miss Fauchelevent, will you please come down from there?”

Cosette tightened her grip around the rigging and looked down at the eighteen-year-old boy on the deck below. “No thank you, Mr. Combeferre. It’s much nicer up here, you can see the ocean for miles!”

“I’m sure it’s very pretty,” Combeferre said patiently. “But you really need to come down.”

“Everyone else gets to climb up!” Cosette protested. “ _You_ get to climb up!”

“For one, I’m six years older than you,” Combeferre said. “And secondly, your father won’t allow it.”

“Why not?” Cosette demanded. “He knows I won’t fall. I’ve climbed trees before.”

Combeferre sighed. “Climbing trees isn’t the same as climbing rigging—you’ll get in the way. And besides, you can’t parade around in the air wearing a _dress_.”

“And why is that?”

Combeferre flushed slightly, looking away. “It—it’s not _decent_. Anyone could just look up.”

“Well, there’s an easy solution to that,” Cosette retorted. “Don’t look up.”

“That hardly solves the problem,” Combeferre said. “Look—come on down, and I’ll tell you another story.”

Cosette’s face brightened, and she scrambled down as quickly as she could, landing on the deck with a thump. “Tell me the one about Calypso again!”

“I told you that story yesterday,” Combeferre said. “And the day before. And all through last week.”

“Well, it’s a good story!” Cosette said.

“It’s excellent,” Combeferre said. “But I’m getting a little tired of telling it. Have I told you about Blackbeard?”

Cosette shook her head, bouncing slightly on her toes.

“Nobody knows where he came from,” Combeferre said, lowering his voice slightly. “He travels from place to place, stealing everything that isn’t tied down and some things that are, all without shooting anyone. Know how he does it?”

“How?” Cosette asked, eyes wide.

“Fear,” Combeferre says. “They say he’s not human. They say that his beard is made of fire, and all the devils of hell are at his command.”

“Thank you, Mr. Combeferre,” a voice from behind them said. “That will do.”

Combeferre whirled around, startled. “Yes, Lieutenant Javert. Sorry, sir.”

“When we put you in charge of looking after Miss Fauchelevent for the duration of the voyage, it was with the expectation that you would continue performing your other duties, not filling her head with stories about pirates,” Javert said, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry, sir,” Combeferre mumbles.

“You’re dismissed.” Javert glowered at Combeferre as he walked away.

“I think it would be rather exciting to meet a pirate!” Cosette said, trailing after Javert.

“It might be momentarily exciting, but pirates break the law, cause mayhem, and are generally vile. My job is to ensure that as many pirates as possible are hanged.”

“I appreciate your dedication, Lieutenant,” Cosette’s father said, overhearing, “but I must ask you not to discuss this with my daughter. I’m concerned about the effect the subject will have on her.”

“My apologies, Governor Fauchelevent,” Javert said stiffly. “Please excuse me.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Papa,” Cosette said as Javert left. “I find it all terribly fascinating!”

“I know,” her father said dryly. “Therein lies my concern. Now be a good girl, and stay out of the way of the sailors, all right?”

“Yes, Papa,” Cosette said, leaning out over the railing.

Despite the fog, the view was still beautiful—in fact, Cosette considered it the prettiest sight she’d ever seen, at least since yesterday. The ocean stretched out, calm and infinite, and, not for the first time, Cosette found herself wishing that the voyage would never end.

Suddenly, a small, delicate parasol materialized out of the fog, spinning in the waves. It was such an unusual sight, set as it was against the vast blue-grey of the sea, that it startled a laugh out of Cosette. After a quick look to make sure her father wasn’t watching, she climbed up on the railing, grabbed one of the lines, and leaned as far out over the water as she could, squinting into the fog to look for more unusual artifacts.

She saw a teapot floating by, then what looked like a sheet, and then—

“There’s a boy in the water!” she called out, jumping off the railing back onto the safety of the deck. “Lieutenant Javert—man overboard!”

She ran off to the side and out of the way while the sailors scurried around to retrieve the boy. She glanced into the fog where he’d appeared from and froze.

Emerging from the fog was the remains of a large ship, broken up and partially on fire. She stared, transfixed and horrified, as the deck filled up with men coming to see.

“What happened?” her father asked, alarm in his voice.

“Most likely an accidental explosion,” Javert said, spyglass trained on the wreckage. “Unfortunately quite common on merchant vessels with no military discipline.”

There was a cough from the group of sailors that sounded suspiciously like “Pirates!”

“That’s enough,” Javert snapped, lowering his spyglass. “Lower the boats, look for survivors.”

He stalked off in the direction of the captain’s quarters, and the deck became a flurry of activity. Cosette shrunk back, trying to avoid becoming an obstacle, when Combeferre emerged from the crowd and took her hand, leading her through the fray.

“Your father’s put you in charge of the boy,” he said, weaving in and out of the sailors. “He’ll be in your care for the time being. Does that sound good?”

She nodded.

“If you need anything, ask one of the sailors to find me,” Combeferre said as they reached the boy. He squeezed her hand and rushed off, leaving Cosette and the boy alone.

He was about her age, with a light spattering of freckles across his cheeks and dark hair falling in waves about his face. Cosette moved to brush it out of his eyes when he sat up with a gasp, grabbing onto her arm.

He looked around in a panic, and Cosette firmly pushed him back down. “I’m Cosette Fauchelevent,” she said calmly. “You’re safe now. What’s your name?”

“Marius,” he said. “Marius Pontmercy. Am I dead?”

“No, you’re on his Majesty’s ship the Intrepid, and I’m in charge of you.”

“Oh,” he said faintly. “All right.”

And as soon as he’d woken up, he fell back asleep, exhausted.

As Cosette considered her new charge, she saw a glint of gold at his throat. She folded his collar aside to find a small gold medallion with a skull engraved on it.

“The ship really was attacked by pirates,” she said to herself, staring at the medallion in horror.

“Cosette, how’s he doing?”

Cosette whirled around at the sound of her father’s voice, snatching the medallion off Marius’s neck and hiding it behind her back. “He woke up for a minute. His name’s Marius Pontmercy—that’s all he said so far.”

“You’re a good caretaker,” her father said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We’re going to move him below to see the ship’s doctor.”

Cosette moved out of the way of the sailors and headed towards the railing. When she was sure nobody was looking, she held up the medallion and examined it.

It was definitely a pirate medallion—it looked just like something out of one of Combeferre’s stories. The only question now was what to do about it.

Option one was to turn it over to Lieutenant Javert, who would most likely consider the medallion’s mere existence as proof of piracy, hanging the boy as soon as he could get a noose together. Option two was to keep quiet, hide the medallion, and allow a possible pirate to go free.

Cosette snorted to herself, stuffing the medallion up her sleeve. It was hardly a difficult decision.

Despite the nervous energy on the deck, she felt oddly calm with the medallion safely tucked away. She turned out towards the ocean, feeling herself start to relax as she stared out over the waves.

A slight movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she turned her head to see a ship with dark red sails slipping away. Most of it was hidden by the fog, but the flag was still clearly visible, and she could see a skull and crossbones flying from the mast.

Cosette took a step back, gasping, and squeezed her eyes shut—

And sat bolt upright in her bed. She looked around for a moment, disoriented, before she remembered where she was.

 _You’re in your room in Port Royal,_ she told herself sternly. _It’s been eight years since you saw that ship_. _No need for panic._

She sat in bed for a moment, focusing on steadying her breathing. When she was sure she’d returned to absolute calm, she got up and lit the lamp, heading towards her dresser, opening the top drawer and uncovering the hidden compartment.

Marius’s medallion was covered in a thick layer of dust, but it was still just as unsettling and haunting as it had been when she’d taken it. She slipped it around her neck and stared at her reflection, lit only by the small lamp. In the darkness of the room, she almost believed she could be some pirate queen, sailing out of Singapore to plunder merchant ships.

A knock at the door startled her out of her reverie. “Cosette? Are you awake?”

“Yes, Papa,” she called out, slipping the medallion under her dress. “Come in!”

Her father entered, followed by Toussaint, who carried a large box. “You keep it so dark in here, darling,” her father said, throwing the curtains open. “No wonder you sleep so late. I have a gift for you, by the way.”

Toussaint put the box on Cosette’s bed and lifted the lid, revealing a pale yellow dress. “It’s beautiful!” Cosette said, taking the dress out of the box. “May I enquire as to the occasion?”

“A father doesn’t need an occasion to dote upon his daughter,” he said with a smile.

“When the father is in the habit of denying himself simple pleasures, the daughter has to wonder,” Cosette said, disappearing behind a screen.

“Seeing you happy is all the pleasure I need,” he said. “But if you wanted to wear the dress to Lieutenant Javert’s promotion ceremony, I wouldn’t mind.”

“He’s becoming a commodore, yes?” Cosette asked, gasping as Toussaint laced up her corset.

“Indeed,” he said. “Does the dress fit?”

“It’s a bit tight,” Cosette said, wincing, “but I’ll manage.”

There was a knock at the door, and Cosette’s uncle Fauchelevent poked his head inside. “Sir, you have a visitor.”

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times,” her father said gently, walking towards the door. “You’re my brother. There’s no need to call me ‘sir’.”

“Of course, sir.”

*   *   *   *   *  

Marius Pontmercy stood uncomfortably in the foyer of the Fauchelevent mansion, a box under his arm, staring up at an ornate iron sconce on the wall. He reached up to inspect the ironwork, but no sooner had he touched it than it came off in his hand.

He froze, staring at the broken sconce. After a brief moment of terror, he stuffed the sconce into a nearby vase.

“Good morning, Mr. Pontmercy.”

Marius whirled around, almost losing his balance. “Good morning, sir. I have your order.” He placed the box on the end table and opened the latches, presenting it to Governor Fauchelevent.

The governor picked up the sword and drew it, inspecting the blade. “Folded steel?”

“Yes sir,” Marius said. “There’s gold filigree in the handle, and it’s perfectly balanced.”

“Magnificent work,” the governor said, sheathing the sword. “Pass my compliments on, please.”

“Marius!” a cheerful voice called out from the stairs. “Good morning!”

Cosette descended the stairs, wearing a pale yellow dress that set off her black hair and eyes. Her smile was wide, and Marius forgot to breathe for a moment.

“G-good morning, Miss Fauchelevent,” he said, blinking.

“For the last time, Marius, call me Cosette.”

“Yes, Miss Fauchelevent,” he said.

Before Cosette could so much as roll her eyes, she was whisked away to the carriage waiting outside. “Good day, Marius!”

“Good day, Cosette,” he said, staring after her.

*   *   *   *   *  

On the ocean outside the docks of Port Royal, a small boat sailed into the harbor. Atop the mast was its captain, a man with shockingly blond hair and dark skin, clad in a brilliant red coat. He stood in the crow’s nest, back straight and head high, and did his best to ignore the fact that his ship was sinking.

By the time the boat pulled up next to the dock, it was so far underwater that the captain was able to step off the top of the mast directly onto the boards of the dock. He strode away, only to be stopped by the harbormaster.

“Dock fee is a shilling,” the man said. “And I need to record your name.”

“Three shillings,” the captain countered. “And no name.”

The harbormaster accepted.

*   *   *   *   *  

The docks for navy ships were a stark contrast to the public docks. Where the public docks had been bustling with activity, the private docks were near-deserted, and only two guards remained—a large, bulky one, and a smaller, slim one. Both had discarded their hats, wigs, and jackets, and were reclining on barrels, their post mostly abandoned. The captain attempted to sneak on board the nearest ship without being spotted, but to no avail.

“This dock is off limits to civilians,” the larger guard said, raising an eyebrow at him.

The captain attempted a winning smile. “I don’t suppose you could make an exception?”

The two men exchanged looks and the smaller one shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

“You aren’t very good at your jobs, are you?” the captain said, striding up the gangplank.

“Not particularly,” the larger guard said with an easy smile. “There’s a reason we aren’t up at the fort with everyone else.”

“I suppose we should ask you what you’re doing here,” the smaller guard said. “What do you think, Bahorel?”

“Make an attempt at competency?” Bahorel asked. “Probably, Prouvaire. What are you doing here?”

“I’m in the market for a ship,” the captain says. “Thought one of these would fit the bill.”

“This ship’s the fastest in the Caribbean,” Prouvaire said proudly.

“ _Marianne’s Revenge_ is faster,” the captain said.

Bahorel nodded. “That’s true.”

“Come off it,” Prouvaire said. “ _Marianne’s Revenge_ isn’t _real_.”

“I’ve seen it,” Bahorel said.

“You’ve seen a ship with red sails that’s crewed by the damned and captained by a man so evil that hell itself spat him back out?” Prouvaire asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Bahorel said. “But I did see a ship with red sails. Utter waste of good fabric, if you ask me.”

“Nobody did,” Prouvaire said, rolling his eyes. “And I—hang on.” He frowned, turning back to the captain. “Are you planning on stealing one of these ships?”

“Yes,” the captain said simply.

Bahorel and Prouvaire exchanged glances once again. “Think he’s telling the truth?” Prouvaire muttered.

“I can only assume so,” Bahorel answered. “Think we should do something about it?”

Prouvaire chewed on his lip a moment. “I’m inclined to say no.”

*   *   *   *   *  

“Now remember, Cosette,” her father said, helping her out of the carriage, “this is a very important occasion for the lieutenant, so be on your best behavior.”

“I’m always on my best behavior, Papa,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Were you on your best behavior when you made Lord Bainswick cry last year?”

“He called me ‘exotic’,” Cosette grumbled.

“I believe it was meant to be a compliment,” her father said gently.

“It didn’t feel like one.”

“Regardless, please try to behave.”

The ceremony was short and fairly uninteresting, so behaving was not difficult for Cosette. Instead, she watched the clouds roll by and focused on breathing, which required quite a lot of concentration. When the ceremony concluded, she made excuses to the other ladies and wandered off to the fort’s edge for some air. The newly christened Commodore Javert was already there, staring out at the horizon.

“Good afternoon, Commodore,” she said, pulling at her corset. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Miss Fauchelevent,” he said stiffly.

“Shouldn’t you be enjoying the party?” Cosette asked. “It’s in your honor, after all.”

“I’m not interested in parties,” Javert said.

“That’s a shame,” Cosette said, leaning against the wall to steady herself. “There can be fun to be had at parties.”

“My time would be better served protecting Port Royal,” Javert said. “Justice cannot be delayed, for anyone.”

He continued talking, but his voice trailed away until Cosette couldn’t hear it. “I can’t breathe,” she said, more to herself than the commodore. No sooner had she said this than her legs buckled, and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Cosette snapped back to life abruptly and unpleasantly, coughing up water.

“Are you all right, Miss?” a gentle voice asked, and she looked up to see her rescuer, a similarly soggy black man with the most brilliantly blonde hair she’d ever seen.

“Fine, thank you,” she gasped, hand going to her throat.

“I had to abandon your dress,” the man said. “It was dragging you down. The corset isn’t usable anymore either, and I am sorry about that.”

“Perfectly fine,” Cosette said, politeness instincts kicking in. “You saved me, and I’m grateful no matter what methods you had to use.”

She grabbed the medallion around her neck, now exposed for the world to see. The man followed her hand and his expression darkened.

“Where did you get that?” he asked, eyes narrowing. Before Cosette could answer, a regiment of marines surrounded the two.

“Cosette!” her father said, rushing forward to help her up. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said as she took the coat provided for her. “Perfectly fine.”

Her father stared at her rescuer, who was currently being held at swordpoint by Javert. “Shoot him.”

“Absolutely not!” Cosette said. “This man saved my life.”

Her father sighed, nodding at Javert, who motioned his men to lower their guns.

“I believe thanks are in order,” the commodore said, extending his hand to the man. The man looked at it for a moment, hesitating, and reached out to shake it. As soon as he took Javert’s hand, the commodore yanked it forward and pushed back his sleeve, revealing a brand in the shape of a ‘p’ on his wrist.

“As I thought,” the commodore said smugly. “Pirate. Captain Alexandre Enjolras, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Hang him,” Governor Fauchelevent said, drawing Cosette closer.

“He said he was in the market for a ship,” Mr. Prouvaire piped up. “Implied he’d come to steal one.”

“These are his things, sir,” Mr. Bahorel said, offering up the bundle to Javert. The commodore took it and inspected the contents, a look of disgust on his face.

“This compass doesn’t even point north,” he said.

“Of course not,” Captain Enjolras replied. “I rarely find myself actually trying to find north.”

The commodore snorted and led Enjolras away.

“Commodore, I really must protest,” Cosette said, throwing off her father’s jacket to run after Javert. “Pirate or not, he saved my life! And as a pirate in a law-abiding country, it was really more dangerous for him to do so.”

“One good deed doesn’t balance out a lifetime of wickedness, Miss Fauchelevent,” Javert said.

“Although that good deed is enough to condemn, apparently,” Enjolras said.

Javert narrowed his eyes slightly. “Indeed.”

As soon as the irons were on, Enjolras broke away from the marine who’d been putting them on and looped the chain around Cosette’s neck.

“Commodore, if you’d be so kind as to hand me my effects,” he said with a grin. At a glance from the Governor, Javert reluctantly handed Enjolras’s things to Cosette. Enjolras grabbed his pistol out of her hands and pointed it directly at her head.

“I am extremely sorry about this, Miss Fauchelevent,” he said seriously

“What do you mean, you’re _sorry_?” Cosette asked, appalled. “You’re not supposed to be sorry!”

“I never like to threaten people—”

“What kind of a pirate are you?” Cosette asked. “You’re _supposed_ to be evil and threatening! I’m supposed to fear for my life! Instead, I’m starting to think that an infant with a cold could overpower you.”

“Look,” Enjolras said, exasperated, “just because I don’t like threatening people doesn’t mean I’m not completely capable of shooting you.”

“That’s more like it,” Cosette said, approving. “That’s a proper threat.”

“Oh, for—will you please just put the belt on?”

She complies, and Enjolras carefully walks backwards, bringing Cosette with him. “We’re even now, Miss Fauchelevent,” he said. “I saved your life, and now you’ve saved mine.”

“I suppose I should say you’re welcome, but I’m not certain you deserve it.”

“Well, it’s been a lovely afternoon,” Enjolras said, “but I really must be going.”

And with no further ado, he pushed Cosette towards the marines, distracting them long enough for him to break into a run.

“Open fire!” Javert roared, passing Cosette off to her father. The marines splintered into groups, racing after the fleeing captain. “We’ll hang him at dawn,” Javert said with a glower. “I want him caught by then.”

“Cosette, are you all right?” her father asked.

“Well, I’m a bit disappointed in the state of modern piracy,” Cosette said, staring after Enjolras, “but otherwise unharmed.”

“Good. Let’s get you home.”

*   *   *   *   *  

Marius returned to the smithy despondent and gloomy. This in and of itself was not unusual—Marius had a despondent and gloomy air a majority of the time, even more so when his work took him up to the governor’s mansion and the beautiful Miss Fauchelevent.

But the smithy was comfortable, was home, and Marius was glad to see everything in place, from blacksmith Gillenormand’s unconscious body in his chair to the various tools lined up neatly by the fireplace.

One thing, however, was definitely _out_ of place—a battered three-cornered hat sitting on an anvil. As Marius approached to inspect it, a figure emerged from the shadows, holding a sword in the air.

“You’re the one they’re hunting,” Marius said, backing up slightly. “Captain Enjolras.”

“That would be me,” Enjolras said with a bow. “Have we met, by any chance? You look vaguely familiar.”

“I can think of no circumstance that would make me look familiar to a _pirate_ ,” Marius spits.

“Well, no need to create the circumstances ourselves. I’ll just be on my way then,” Enjolras said. As he edged around Marius, the boy grabbed a sword and aimed it at Enjolras’s face. “I have no quarrel with you,” Enjolras said. “A fight will not go your way.”

The point of Marius’s sword didn’t waver. “You threatened Miss Fauchelevent.”

Enjolras blinked, confused. “What the—OI!” He jumped out of the way of Marius’s sword, drawing his own. “Seriously?”

Marius didn’t answer, swinging his sword with an unnerving intensity.

“First she gets mad at me for not threatening her enough, and now you attack me for threatening her too much,” Enjolras said, dodging and parrying Marius’s random attacks. “I just can’t win here, can I?”

“Pirates don’t win,” Marius said, nearly slicing Enjolras’s head off.

“That’s news to me.”

Marius’s technique was impeccable, and Enjolras slowly found that he was on the losing side of the battle. It was time for drastic measures. He whirled around, blocking Marius’s blows, and sliced open a nearby sandbag, spraying the sand directly into Marius’s face. Marius stumbled away, coughing, and by the time he’d recovered, Enjolras had him at swordpoint.

“You _cheated_ ,” Marius said, looking utterly betrayed.

“I _am_ a pirate, you know,” Enjolras said, amused. Hearing the marines banging at the door, he pulled out his pistol and cocked it, pointing it straight at Marius’s heart. “Now move.”

Marius shook his head, planting his feet firmly on the ground. “No.”

“I’ll shoot you.”

“So do it,” Marius said, raising his chin. “I’ll die in the service of Miss Fauchelevent, then.”

“Oh, for god’s sake,” Enjolras said with disgust. “That’s not healthy, mate.”

“Healthy or not,” Marius said defiantly, “it is my choice.”

Before Enjolras could retort back, the sound of breaking glass came from behind him and he toppled forward, revealing a now conscious Gillenormand.

“Never negotiate with a pirate, boy,” Gillenormand said, hiccupping slightly and waving the broken bottle in Marius’s direction.

Just then, the marines finally broke through and surrounded the unconscious Enjolras, followed by Commodore Javert.

“Excellent work, Mr. Gillenormand,” he said, staring down his nose at Enjolras.

“You’ve assisted in the capture of a dangerous fugitive.”

“Just doing my civic duty, sir,” Gillenormand said.

“Indeed. Take him away.”

*   *   *   *   *            

Toussaint came in that night with a bed warmer, as was the custom, but brought in a cup of chocolate as well. “There you are, Miss,” she said with a smile. “I thought you deserved it, what with having such a trying day.”

“Not that I’ll ever turn down chocolate,” Cosette said, taking the cup gratefully, “but it wasn’t all that trying.”

“You were threatened by a pirate,” Toussaint said. “I’d call that trying.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Cosette said, taking a sip of her chocolate. “He wasn’t much of a pirate, though.”

Toussaint looked faintly confused. “All the stories make him sound so fearsome.”

“He was incredibly polite,” Cosette said. “Hardly fearsome.”

“I suppose that’s lucky for you, at least,” Toussaint said. “Seems you weren’t in much danger.”

She curtseyed and left Cosette alone with her chocolate and her thoughts.

Suddenly she heard a booming crash come from the direction of the fort. Throwing off her covers, she got out of bed and hurried to the window. From her balcony, she could see a menacing black ship firing on the town, and a group of what appeared to be pirates advancing up the path towards the house.

“Unbelievable,” Cosette muttered, heading back inside. She slipped on her robe and a pair of house shoes, in case they had to escape to the fort, and headed downstairs. There was a loud banging at the door, and she broke into a run.

Just as she reached the top of the second floor, her uncle Fauchelevent stood at the door, preparing to answer it. Cosette had barely any time to shout and warn him before he opened the door.

A gathering of pirates stood there, ragged and grim. “Evening, mate,” a small boy at the front of the group said. Uncle Fauchelevent had no time to respond before a bullet entered his head.

Cosette screamed, backing away. The pirates spotted her instantly, and she turned and bolted back up the stairs. She sprinted to her room, slamming the door behind her, and nearly ran over Toussaint.

“They’ve come to kidnap you!” she said, eyes wide.

“What?”

“You’re the governor’s daughter, Miss Fauchelevent,” Toussaint said. “They’re here to kidnap you!”

Cosette took a deep breath, considering her options. “They haven’t seen you yet,” she told Toussaint, barricading the door. “Hide, and the first chance you get, find a weapon and head straight to the fort. Find my father or Commodore Javert, tell them what’s going on.”

“Yes, Miss,” Toussaint said, terrified, as she moved to hide behind the bed. Cosette grabbed the bed warmer and waited.

It didn’t take long for someone to start banging at her door. It broke almost immediately, revealing a boy and a girl, younger than even Cosette, with dark skin and ragged clothes. Any other day, she would have hesitated. But she’d dealt with one pirate already today, and these two intended to harm her. So before they could properly look around the room, she swung the bed warmer with all her might, knocking the boy over the head. The girl twisted and grabbed the handle, while Toussaint slipped past her. Once Cosette saw that Toussaint was safely out of the room, she pulled the lever, dumping the hot coals onto the girl’s head. She dashed out of the room and down the stairs again, this time with pirates close on her heels.

The foyer was complete chaos. Pirates in various states of grunge were running here and there, smashing things and stealing valuables. Cosette would have paused and attempted to protect her home, but with more pirates right behind her, she chose instead to run. Dodging the falling chandelier, she ran straight across the entryway and hid in her father’s study, locking the door behind her. She attempted to grab one of the swords on the wall, only to find that not only was it permanently attached to the shield, but it was also fake.

Her pursuers had caught up and were banging on the door again. With only moments to make a decision, Cosette dove for a nearby closet, shutting it behind her just as the boy and girl broke through the door. Cosette held her breath as the two looked around the room.

“We know you’re in here,” the girl said.

“Come on out, missy,” the boy said. “We ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“Yeah,” the girl said. “We just wanna talk, like. Have some light conversation.”

“You’ve got our gold,” the boy said. “We need it.”

They fell silent for a moment, and then Cosette heard footsteps getting closer and closer to her hiding place. She stood, frozen, as the beam of light falling over her face was replaced by shadow.

“Hello, missy,” the boy said.

“Parley!” Cosette said hurriedly, as soon as he threw the door open.

The two frowned, glancing at each other. “What?”

“Parley,” Cosette said, frantically trying to remember the stories Mr. Combeferre had told her. “It’s the Code of the Brethren. You have to take me to your captain.”

“We know the code,” the girl said, sticking her nose in the air. “Obviously.”

“So you know you can’t hurt me,” Cosette said. “Not until the parley is over.”

“The code’s more of a guideline,” the girl growled, pulling out a pistol. The boy’s hand shot out, grabbing the girl around the wrist.

“She wants to see the captain,” he told her. “And she’ll come quietly, like.”

“Thank you,” Cosette said, letting the air out of her lungs and sticking out her hand. “I’m Cosette.”

“Gavroche,” the boy said, shaking it. “This is my sister, Azelma.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cosette said politely. Azelma snorted.

“We’re all well _a-quain-ted_ now,” she said. “Can we go?”

“Aye,” Gavroche said. “Come on, missy.”

*   *   *   *   *            

When the pirates attacked, Marius grabbed a sword and a hammer and rushed out to fight. After facing another pirate earlier in the day, he felt more confident. He would not give them the space to cheat, not this time.

He dispatched a pirate—was it just him, or did some of them look awfully similar—and turned to see two smaller pirates hustling Miss Fauchelevent towards the docks. He made to run after her, but a grip on his arm spun him back around.

Facing him was a pirate who looked almost exactly like the one he’d just killed. He raised his arm to strike a blow, and the last thing Marius thought before unconsciousness was _there must be a lot of twins on this ship._

*   *   *   *   *            

The pirate ship was even more menacing up close. It was painted entirely black, with a skeletal figure for a masthead, and the sails were a dark, blood red. The decks were teeming with pirates, and a chill went up Cosette’s spine. Captain Enjolras has been polite and disinclined to cause more harm than necessary. These pirates, she suspected, had no such qualms.

Her presence seemed to cause quite the commotion. The pirates around her were bickering, arguing over whether or not prisoners were allowed, and if she even counted as a prisoner.

“Silence!” a man roared, cutting through the chatter. Everyone fell quiet and turned to him. He stalked across the deck towards Cosette. He cut an imposing figure—dressed all in black, like his ship, with a large hat that had a bright red feather in it. Cosette reminded herself to breathe when his gaze turned on her. _They have to follow the code_ , she told herself. _They won’t harm you yet._

“Do I have the pleasure of addressing Captain Montparnasse?” she said, holding her head high and praying that Azelma and Gavroche had told her the right name.

“Aye,” he said with a smirk. “What can I do for you, Miss?”

“I am here to negotiate the cessation of hostilities against Port Royal,” she said.

Montparnasse raised his eyebrows. “The thing about negotiation is that usually both sides have to bring something to the table.” He paused, regarding Cosette with a predatory look. “What might you be bringing to the table, Miss?”

Cosette took a few deep breaths, trying to center herself. She looked up at the moonless sky through the tattered red sails, and suddenly it clicked.

“I have this,” she said, taking the pirate medallion off from around her neck. She strode to the railing and held it over the edge. “And if you don’t leave and never come back, I’ll drop it.”

At that, a small glint of panic flickered in Montparnasse’s eyes. He recovered quickly, putting on a disinterested expression. “What makes you think we have any interest in your little trinket?”

“You’ve been searching for it,” Cosette said. “Gavroche said that I had your gold, and you needed it. Besides, I remember this ship. I saw it eight years ago on the crossing from England.” She frowned. “You might want to do something about the sails. Red is a very distinctive color.”

“Is that so?” Montparnasse said, raising one eyebrow.

Cosette sighed. “Well, I could be wrong. In that case, there’s no point in holding onto this any longer.” She let the chain drop slightly, and was incredibly gratified to watch the pirates gasp and reach forward.

“Well played,” Montparnasse said as she brought the necklace back from over the side. “Do you have a name, Miss?”

“Cosette—” She broke off. They may not be here to kidnap her specifically, but if they knew they had a governor’s daughter in their grasp, they’d be far more reluctant to let her go. “Cosette Pontmercy. I’m a maid in the governor’s household.”

A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd, and Cosette faltered a bit.

“Well, _Miss Pontmercy_ ,” Montparnasse said, smirking. “You hand over that medallion and I promise we’ll leave and never return.”

Cosette pushed down a sigh of relief and dumped the medallion in Montparnasse’s outstretched hand. He inspected it, smiled, and handed it off to a small monkey who appeared at his shoulder. He nodded to the assembled pirates, who went about stowing the guns and preparing to leave, and walked away.

“Wait!” Cosette said, running after him. “You have to take me to shore!”

“I don’t, actually,” he said idly.

“Yes, you _do_ ,” Cosette insisted. “The Code of the Brethren says—”

“First off,” Montparnasse said, turning to face her, “your return to shore was not mentioned at any time during our negotiations, so I have no obligation to do anything about it. Second, the code does not apply to you, as _you’re not a pirate_. Third, the code is more like a guideline than a hard and fast rule.” He smiled, spreading his arms wide. “Welcome to _Marianne’s Revenge_ , Miss Pontmercy.”


	3. Chapter 3

When Marius awoke, long after the pirates were gone, the first thing he thought was _ow_.

The second thing he thought was _there’s a chicken on my stomach._

The third and final thing he thought was _Cosette!_

He jumped up, ignoring the indignant squawk from the chicken, and ran in the direction of the fort.

“They’ve taken her! They’ve taken Cosette,” he yelled as he rounded the corner to find the governor and the commodore bent over a selection of maps.

Commodore Javert didn’t even glance up. “Mr. Bahorel, remove this man.”

“We have to hunt them down,” Marius said, pushing the marine aside. “We have to save her!”

“What exactly do you think it is that we’re doing here?” the governor asked, leaning heavily on the table. “If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of my daughter, please, share it. Otherwise, I must ask you to leave the men to their work.”

“That pirate we caught yesterday,” Prouvaire said. “He talked about _Marianne’s Revenge._ ”

“Mentioned it, is more like,” Bahorel said.

Nobody seemed to react to this. “Well, then ask him where it is!” Marius said, feeling very much like he was stating the obvious. “He could lead us to it.”

Javert still doesn’t look at him. “The pirates that invaded Port Royal yesterday left Enjolras locked in his cage. They are not his allies. And even if they were, we couldn’t count on him to help us. He _is_ a pirate, after all.” He motioned the governor over, pointing at a spot on the map. “I believe this is their most likely course—”

“That’s not good enough!” Marius yelled, slamming his palms down on the table.

“Mr. Pontmercy,” Javert said, grabbing his arm and steering him away. “You are not a military man. Neither are you a sailor. You are a blacksmith, and should stick with what you can do.”

He turned his back on Marius, declaring the matter closed. Marius, however, was not ready to give up yet.

*   *   *   *   *            

It was a testament to Enjolras’s continuing bad luck that he was still in his cell. _Marianne’s Revenge_ had blown the walls of the prison right open, and every prisoner had enough room to escape except for him. So he remained, the last prisoner in the jail, attempting to pick the lock with whatever he had on him.

Which, unfortunately, was not much.

He heard footsteps coming down the stairs and threw himself back, looking for all the world like he’d been lying on the straw for ages. The man who came into view was not Javert or a marine, as he’d expected, but the boy he’d fought the day before.

“You. Pirate,” he said.

Enjolras sighed. “I have a name, you know.”

The boy ignored him. “You’re familiar with _Marianne’s Revenge_ , correct?”

“Aye.”

“Where does it dock?”

Enjolras raised his eyebrows. “If you believe the stories, an island that can’t be found unless you already know where it is.”

“The ship is real, so the island must be real. Where is it?”

“What’s your interest in this?”

The boy leaned his head against the bars. “They took Miss Fauchelevent.”

“Of course they did,” Enjolras muttered. “Why should I help you?”

“I can get you out of here,” the boy said, staring intently down at Enjolras. “I helped build this prison. It’s just a matter of applying the right leverage, and the door will come free.”

“Who are you?”

“Marius,” the boy said. “Marius Pontmercy.”

Pontmercy. A name Enjolras hadn’t heard in ages.

“All right, Mr. Pontmercy,” Enjolras said, getting to his feet. “You get me out of this cell, and I’ll take you to the _Revenge_ and your Miss Fauchelevent. Agreed?”

Marius reached through the bars to shake Enjolras’s hand. “Agreed.”

*   *   *  *   *            

“You can’t be serious.”

“Marius, I am the picture of seriousness,” Enjolras said.

“There are two of us,” Marius said, exasperated. “How on earth do you expect us to be able to steal the _Interceptor_?”

“Clearly, you learned nothing from our fight yesterday,” Enjolras said, studying the far off figure of the Dauntless. “If you’re to be a successful pirate, you’re going to have to be able to cheat.”

“I don’t _want_ to be a successful pirate,” Marius said indignantly. “I want to save Cosette.”

“And you’ll have to be a successful pirate to do so,” Enjolras said, rising to his feet. “Now come on.”

The Dauntless was not as impressive a ship as the _Interceptor_ , but it was farther out in the bay, and therefore perfectly suited for Enjolras’s purpose. The two men approached the ship as quietly and invisibly as they could, scaling the side and climbing onto the deck.

“Gentlemen, please stay calm,” Enjolras said, descending the stairs. “We’re taking over the ship.”

“Aye!” Marius said, brandishing his sword in the air. “Avast!”

The sailors burst into laughter as Enjolras sighed. “Yes, Marius, thank you,” he said, drawing his pistol and pointing it at the captain. “Now get in the rowboat.”

*   *   *   *   *            

“Commodore Javert,” one of the lieutenants said, hurrying up to him. “Enjolras and Pontmercy have taken the Dauntless, sir.”

Javert sighed. “Of course they did. Have the men sail out to the Dauntless.” The lieutenant nodded and hurried away, while Javert took out his spyglass and watched the two men on the Dauntless get tangled up in rope. “That’s got to be the worst pirate I’ve ever seen,” he muttered to himself.

The _Interceptor_ was upon the Dauntless in a heartbeat, and the sailors swarmed over the side, followed by Javert. “Search everywhere, down to the hull,” he said to the lieutenant. A small crash sounded just outside of his view, and he whirled around to see Enjolras and Pontmercy on the _Interceptor_ , cutting the ropes that connected the two ships.

“Sailors, back to the _Interceptor_!” he roared, but it was too late. The ship was slipping away into the waves, with Enjolras at the helm.

“How fast can we pursue?” Javert snapped to nobody in particular.

The lieutenant appeared at his shoulder in a flash. “We can’t, sir. He’s disabled the rudder chain.” He paused, raising an eyebrow at the retreating _Interceptor_. “That’s got to be the best pirate I’ve ever seen.”

Javert just growled.

*   *   *   *   *            

Marius managed to stay silent for the first hour of their voyage, but as soon as the last vestiges of land disappeared beyond the horizon, he turned to Enjolras. “What do you know about my father?”

Enjolras groaned internally, pulling his hat lower over his eyes. “Beg pardon?”

“You only agreed to help me after you learned my name,” Marius said. “I’m not an idiot. You knew him, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Enjolras said. “But I’d also like to point out that I also agreed to help after you promised to get me out of jail. You lucked out this time, but leaps of logic like that won’t help anyone.”

Marius ignored him, which Enjolras was starting to suspect would be par for the course. “What was he like?”

“Georges Pontmercy,” Enjolras said, leaning on the ship’s wheel. “He was a good man. More than that, he was an excellent pirate.”

Marius stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. “My father was not a pirate.”

“Of course he was,” Enjolras said. “He was part of my crew for a while.”

“He was an honest merchant,” Marius said, drawing his sword. “He obeyed the law.”

“Fighting me again won’t change the truth,” Enjolras said. “Georges was a pirate and a good man. You can either accept that and sail with his fellow pirate, or you can't accept it and fight me. However, only one of those paths will lead you to Miss Fauchelevent.”

Marius wavered and then lowered his sword. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll accept that you think my father was a pirate.”

“Have it your way, mate,” Enjolras said, turning the wheel.

*   *   *   *   *            

They arrived in Tortuga the following night, and Marius didn’t like the look of the city. It was dingy, it smelled, and was filled to the absolute brim with pirates. Some of his distaste must have showed on his face, because Enjolras picked up on it.

“Relax,” he said lazily, flashing a smile. “I know my way around here. We’ll be fine.”

Marius thought of several retorts, but decided to keep them to himself.

The contact Enjolras talked about all through the voyage turns out to be Mr. Combeferre, one of the sailors on the ship where Marius had met Cosette.

“Shame to see the navy didn’t work out for you,” Marius says, enthusiastically shaking Combeferre’s hand.

“It’s not really a shame,” Combeferre says, shrugging. “Really, the shame is that it took so long for me to leave.”

“Stand watch,” Enjolras said to Marius. “Combeferre and I have a few arrangements to make first.”

Marius took up a position near a pillar and tried to do some deep breathing to calm his nerves. This option was quickly ruled out, as the smell of the tavern only caused more stress. He decided instead to just lean back and watch the tavern’s occupants.

A few moments later, a chicken started pecking at his foot, snapping him out of his reverie. “It’s just a matter of the right _leverage_ ,” he heard Enjolras say from behind him. Marius narrowed his eyes, shifting away from the pillar.

“Don’t trust pirates,” Mr. Gillenormand had always said. He had been old, mean, and usually drunk, but his advice seemed in this moment to hold true.

“Watch your back, _captain_ ,” he muttered to himself, staring out into the tavern.

*   *   *   *   *            

A day into their voyage off to who knew where, Gavroche and Azelma came to Cosette’s cabin with a dress and an offer of dinner.

“The captain says we’re supposed to help you get dressed,” Azelma said, wrinkling her noise. “Apparently ladies need help with that kind of thing. But you’re a maid, not a fine lady.”

“I can get dressed perfectly well on my own,” Cosette said, taking the dress.

“We’ll be just out here,” Gavroche said from his place at the door. “Knock when you’re ready and we’ll take you to the captain’s cabin.”

Cosette dressed quickly and was escorted to Montparnasse’s cabin, where the captain was waiting with a large spread of food laid out. “Good evening, Miss Pontmercy,” he said, taking her hand and tipping his hat.

“Good evening, Captain,” she said with a curtsey. “Thank you for the dinner invitation, and for the dress.”

“I hope you found it to your liking,” Montparnasse said courteously, pulling out a chair for her.

“I did, thank you,” Cosette said, taking a seat. “People seem to keep giving me dresses lately, but this is the loveliest. You have a good eye for fashion.”

Montparnasse preened, settling in his own chair. Gavroche poured wine into Cosette’s cup while Azelma served the food. “Dig in,” Montparnasse said once the two had moved away.

Cosette ate quickly, but not too quickly so as to appear rude. Twenty years of etiquette lessons had formed habits that would not be so easily broken.

“I must say, you seem to be handling the whole situation very well,” Montparnasse said, eyeing her. “We’ve had captives before, and they all put up such a fuss.”

“Well, you haven’t killed me,” Cosette said, taking a sip of wine. “Moreover, you’ve given me wonderful accommodations, a beautiful dress, and an excellent meal. I was taught to be polite, Captain. I see no point in fussing for the time being.”

“That’s an admirable attitude,” Montparnasse said.

“Although I do have to wonder why I’m still here,” Cosette said. “You already have your medallion. I can’t imagine that I’m of any further value to you.”

Montparnasse’s monkey chose that moment to hop up on the table. It curled around Montparnasse’s shoulder, the medallion in its hand, and waved it in front of the captain’s face.

“You don’t know what this is, do you?” Montparnasse asked, taking the medallion.

Cosette shrugged. “Pirate gold, I suppose.”

“Aztec gold, actually,” Montparnasse said. “One of eight hundred and eighty-two identical pieces, meant as blood money to keep Cortes from killing any more of their people. Of course, Cortes didn’t keep up his end of the bargain, so the Aztec gods placed a curse upon the chest—any mortal who removed gold from the chest would be cursed for eternity.”

Cosette smiled, putting down her fork. “Reminds me of the stories Mr. Combeferre used to tell me on the crossing from England. They were all full of ghosts and curses.”

“I thought something similar,” Montparnasse said. “Curses weren’t real. The whole crew knew that. But treasure, ah, that was definitely real.” He handed the medallion back up to the monkey, who took it in its hands and bit it. “We found the chest, we took the gold, and we spent every last coin.”

Cosette swallowed hard. “And there was no curse, right?”

Montparnasse turned his head slightly and smirked, giving Cosette a sidelong glance. “What do you think?”

Cosette suddenly felt very afraid.

“The curse can only be broken when all the pieces are returned to the chest, and the blood repaid. Thanks to you, we have the final piece.”

“And the—blood to be repaid?” Cosette asked hesitantly.

Montparnasse smiled, a grin that sent chills down Cosette’s spine. “That’s why we haven’t killed you, Miss Pontmercy— _yet_.”

Cosette’s eyes widened, and she pushed back her chair. But instead of following her half-baked plan and bolting, she ended up putting her head between her knees and breathing deeply.  
“Miss Pontmercy,” Montparnasse said, slightly concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Call me Cosette!” she said, a bit hysterically. “And I’m perfectly fine, I just feel a bit faint.” A glass of water came into her view, and she took it gratefully, gulping it down in a rather undignified manner. “Thank you.”

“If it makes you feel any better, it’s nothing personal,” Montparnasse said.

Cosette snorted. “Why would that make me feel any better? I’m still going to be dead.”

Montparnasse shrugged. “In the past, it’s helped other prisoners.”

“Look—blood has to be repaid,” Cosette said wildly. “Nowhere in that phrase does it say _all_ of my blood has to go, does it?”

“I suppose not.”

“Then just prick my finger!” Cosette said. “Get a few drops of blood, no serious harm done! Then you’re free and un-cursed, and I can go home.”

Montparnasse tilted his head, considering. “I don’t see why we can’t give it a try. But in the event that it doesn’t work, I reserve the right to kill you.”

“Of course,” Cosette said, gulping down another large drink of water. “That’s only fair.”

She in no way thought it was fair, but a chance of death was better than certain death.

“Is there any chance I could take a turn about the deck?” Cosette asked. “Given recent events, I think I need some air.”

“Of course,” Montparnasse said. “As a warning, though, the crew will be skeletal.”

Cosette raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon.”

Montparnasse shrugged. “We’re cursed, Miss Pontmercy. That does come with consequences.”

“Oh,” Cosette said faintly. “In that case, I think I’d just like to go back to my room, please.”

“Of course.” Montparnasse rose and pulled out her chair, offering his arm to Cosette as she stood. She took it, leaning on him as he escorted her out the door.

The walk from the captain’s quarters to her own was blessedly short. But despite how much she tried not to look, she could still see faint glimpses of moving skeletons dressed in rags out of the corner of her eye.

She did not sleep well that night.


	4. Chapter 4

“I did my best,” Combeferre said, “but there weren’t many sailors willing to join a ship that was going to chase down _Marianne’s Revenge_.”

“Perfectly all right,” Enjolras said, clapping Combeferre on the back. “How many did you get?”

Combeferre winced. “Five.”

“Well, with you, me, and Marius, that makes eight. A perfectly decent number to sail a ship,” Enjolras said. “Now come on, introduce us.”

They came to a stop in front of the short line of sailors. “First, we have Miss Sofia de Courfeyrac of Spain, one of the best sailors I’ve ever had the privilege of knowing.”

“You can just call me Courfeyrac,” she said with a wink. “Much less of a mouthful.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Courfeyrac,” Enjolras said politely. “I’m Alexandre Enjolras, and this is Marius, my associate.”

“I look forward to working with you,” Courfeyrac said, smiling widely at Marius.

“Next, we have Mr. Joly, who in addition to being a fine sailor also works as a doctor,” Combeferre said, coming to a stop in front of the next crewmember. “And this is his parrot…Eagle.”

Enjolras frowned. “Is it a parrot or an eagle?”

“It’s a parrot _named_ Eagle,” Combeferre said. “Although, if that’s confusing, you can call him—”

“Bossuet!” the parrot squawked. Joly smiled widely and gave Enjolras a thumbs-up.

“Joly is mute,” Combeferre says. “So any questions you have can be addressed to Bossuet.”

“Of course,” Enjolras said. “It’s nice to meet you both.”

“Then we have Musichetta,” Combeferre said, moving in front of a dark-skinned woman with a shock of curly hair. “She’s a gunner, one of the best.”

“I’m grateful you chose to come aboard,” Enjolras said seriously. “We could always use the best.”

“Over there is Mr. Feuilly,” Combeferre said, indicating a dark-skinned man with serious eyes. “One of the most hardworking men I’ve ever met.”

“It’s good to meet you, Captain,” Feuilly said, holding his hand out. Enjolras shook it, meeting his intense gaze.

“The pleasure is mine,” Enjolras said.

“And last but not least,” Combeferre said, “We have Mr. Grantaire.”

“Morning, Captain,” Grantaire said, swaying slightly.

“Good morning, Grantaire,” Enjolras said. “Are you drunk?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Probably.”

At Enjolras’s questioning glance, Combeferre said, “He’s a bit of a drunk, but he can be relied upon in a crisis.”

“Excellent. Well, Marius, are you ready?”

Marius, who had looked faintly bored by the proceedings, perked up. “Are we going after Cosette now?”

Enjolras turned and stared out over the water. “Aye,” he said. “It’s time to set sail.”

*   *   *   *   *            

From watching the view out of her window, Cosette could see the ship was slowing down. There was a small, polite knock at the door, and after a brief pause, Azelma and Gavroche entered.

“I suppose it’ll be time to go soon?” Cosette asked, not turning around.

“Yes,” Azelma said. “The captain told us to say we’ll be ready for you in about half an hour, so try to look presentable.”

Cosette had to smile at that, in spite of everything. “Can I ask you something?” she said, facing the two.

“Of course, missy,” Gavroche said.

“What’s the curse like?”

She regretted the question as soon as she asked it. The two glanced at each other, faces falling.

“Have you ever been hungry, Miss?” Gavroche asked finally. “Like, really hungry? The kind where you can’t move you’re so weak?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Cosette said quietly.

“It’s like that,” Azelma said, staring at the ground. “And no matter what you eat, it don’t make a difference. And you’re thirsty all the time, and you can’t feel the wind in your hair.”

“That sounds terrible,” Cosette said.

“It ain’t all bad,” Gavroche said. “We do get to turn into skeletons.”

A smile bloomed over Azelma’s face. “Aye. Not half bad, that.”

*   *   *   *   *            

Marius cornered Combeferre in the final stretches of their voyage. “How much do you know about Enjolras?” he asked furtively.

“Quite a lot, I think,” Combeferre said. “Why?”

Marius simply shrugged. “I hardly know anything about him. It would be interesting to learn about his past.”

“You could simply ask him,” Combeferre pointed out.

“I could,” Marius said. “But I’m asking you.”

“Fine,” Combeferre said. “But what I’m going to tell you is all common knowledge.”

“I’m all right with that.”

“Most people don’t know anything about him before he turned up in Tortuga and put together a crew to go after the Isla de Muerta treasure,” Combeferre said. “That’s back when he was still captain of _Marianne’s Revenge_.”

Marius’s eyebrows shot up. “He didn’t mention that.”

“He wouldn’t have,” Combeferre says. “That voyage saw a mutiny by his first mate. They marooned him on an island with a pistol with one shot and left him to die.”

“How did he get off the island?” Marius asked, curious.

“Well, the story goes that he roped some sea turtles to make a raft,” Combeferre said, rolling his eyes. “Utter nonsense, of course, but there are always nonsensical legends surrounding pirates.”

“How did he actually escape, then?” Marius asked.

“I told you—everything I’m telling you is common knowledge,” Combeferre said. “You want the real details, go ask him yourself.”

“Fine,” Marius grumbled.

“He still has the pistol they gave him,” Combeferre said. “He’s saving the one shot for his mutinous first mate.”

“Montparnasse,” Marius concluded.

“Precisely,” Enjolras said, appearing out of nowhere. “Marius and I are going to shore. Remember, stick to the plan.”

Combeferre looked extremely unhappy, but agreed regardless.

“What’s the plan?” Marius asked when they were safely in a rowboat and headed to the island.

“Hmm?”

“You told Combeferre to stick to the plan,” Marius persisted. “What is it?”

“The plan, Marius, is to stick to the code,” Enjolras responded.

“And what’s the code?”

“Pirate code,” Enjolras said. “Any man who falls behind is left behind.”

“That’s horrible,” Marius said, appalled. “Is there no honor among thieves, then?”

“If it helps, we generally don’t follow that aspect of the code,” Enjolras said. “But considering the danger of our current situation, I don’t want the crew to put themselves at risk trying to save us.”

“How _noble_ of you,” Marius said.

Enjolras gave him a sidelong glance. “You have quite a dim outlook on pirates, for all that you’re halfway to becoming one.”  
“I am not!” Marius said indignantly.

“Are too,” Enjolras said calmly. “You’ve broken a pirate out of jail, helped commandeer a navy ship, and sailed with a pirate crew out of Tortuga.”

“Yes, but I did it out of love, not greed,” Marius said.

Enjolras shrugged. “Noble motive. Still piracy.” He hopped out of the boat, dragging it up onto the sand. Creeping along the embankment, he climbed up a gentle slope and crouched down, motioning Marius up. He followed, leaning down next to Enjolras. The vantage point overlooked most of the cave, which was filled almost to the brim with treasure. In front of the assembled group of pirates, on top of an elevated mound of gold, stood Cosette.

Marius lurched forward, only for Enjolras to drag him back. “Not yet,” he hissed. “You charge in there unprepared, you’ll just get her killed. We wait for the opportune moment.”

“And when’s that?” Marius snapped. “When it’s of greatest profit to you?”

Enjolras turned to him, a pained look on his face. “Marius, have I ever given you reason not to trust me? Look, just wait here. I’m going to go scope out the other side of the cave.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Marius only waited for a moment before grabbing an oar and following. Enjolras had his own personal reasons for being here, he knew, and he would not let those personal reasons endanger Cosette. Marius managed to sneak up behind Enjolras, and with one good swing of the oar, knocked him out.

“I’m sorry, Enjolras,” Marius said, looking down at the captain’s unconscious form. “I’m not going to be your leverage.”

*   *   *   *   *            

Captain Montparnasse was giving a rather dramatic speech about blood sacrifices and proving one’s worth, none of which Cosette was even pretending to listen to. Papa had always taught her to focus on her breathing in times of stress, which she was doing now. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath in, held it for a moment, and exhaled.

As a relaxation technique, it had always worked very well for her. However, in her current circumstances, she was hyper-aware of the blood pulsing through her body, and abandoned the slow breathing soon after.

“Begun by blood!” Montparnasse said, grabbing her hand. “By blood undone.”

A small, less rational part of Cosette’s brain hoped very much that that phrase was part of the ritual, and not, as she expected, more theatrics. Being dramatic was one thing, but the captain seemed to be overdoing it.

Montparnasse took the necklace off of her and sliced her palm, pressing the medallion against the cut. After a moment, he released her hand, and the entire room watched the medallion drop into the chest. There was dead silence for a minute, and Cosette found herself struggling to breathe.

“Did it work?” a voice from the crowd said eventually.

“I don’t feel no different,” Gavroche said, frowning and poking at his chest. “How do we tell?”

Cosette risked a glance at Montparnasse, who rolled his eyes, pulled out a pistol, and fired. The bullet went straight through Gavroche without a problem.

Azelma frowned. “You ain’t dead.”

“It seems not,” Gavroche said, examining the bullet hole.

“So it didn’t work,” she concluded.

Montparnasse sighed. “I suppose we’ll just have to try again.”

He turned to Cosette, lifting his knife, and she backed away. “No, please!” she said frantically. “There has to be some other reason it didn’t work!”

“You’re a Pontmercy,” Montparnasse said simply. “It should have worked.”

The bottom dropped out of Cosette’s stomach. “I’m not actually a Pontmercy,” she said miserably. “I lied.”

Montparnasse narrowed his eyes, advancing on her. “Really.”

“Really!” Cosette said, taking another step back. “My name is Fauchelevent, I was adopted, my father is most likely worried sick about me right now—”

Montparnasse’s hand whipped out, backhanding her across the face. She fell down the pile of treasure they were perched atop, coming to an abrupt and unpleasant stop at the bottom. _Play dead_ , she thought wildly. _Play dead and maybe they’ll forget about you_.

As far as plans went, Cosette knew full well that it was a fairly terrible one.

“You brought us the wrong person!” she heard someone roar.

“She had the medallion!” Gavroche said. “She’s the right age, and _she said her name was Pontmercy_.”

Cosette listened to the ensuing infighting, panic rising, when Marius of all people emerged from the water.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Cosette pushed herself up and slid into the water. The medallion, which had fallen next to her when Montparnasse hit her, glinted in the corner of her eye.

She did not hesitate before she grabbed it.


	5. Chapter 5

Enjolras awoke, groggy and disoriented, to the sound of footsteps and shouting. He ducked behind a pillar to avoid detection, only to encounter Gavroche and Azelma. They stared at him for a moment, stunned, before speaking.

“Ain’t you supposed to be dead?” Gavroche asked finally.

“Most likely,” Enjolras answered. Azelma pulled out a pistol, pointing it directly at his face. “Parley,” he said, hands going up.

Azelma narrowed her eyes. “Damn to the depths whatever man thought of parley.”

“I believe it was the French,” Enjolras said.

*   *   *   *   *  

Cosette and Marius made it to the _Interceptor_ without too much trouble.

“Fair warning,” Marius said as the crew threw a rope down. “The ship is full of pirates.”

Cosette smiled, pulling herself up. “I think I’ll be quite all right, Marius.” A hand reached down to help her up the final way and she took it, rising up onto the deck to find a familiar face.

“Mr. Combeferre!” she said joyfully, hugging the older man. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Good to see you as well, Miss Fauchelevent,” he said, hugging her back.

“You can just call me Cosette,” she said. “I feel like we’ve passed the point of needing to stand on propriety. Do you have a doctor on board, by any chance?”

“Of course,” Combeferre said. “Musichetta, can you please take her to see Mr. Joly?”

“Aye,” Musichetta said, stepping up. “Right this way, Miss.”

“Call me Cosette, please. You’ve helped rescue me. I feel like that should grant you first name rights.”

Musichetta looked faintly bemused. “Cosette it is.”

As they disappeared below deck, Combeferre turned to Marius. “I assume the fact that Enjolras isn’t here means he fell behind?”

Marius swallowed heavily. “Yes. Fell behind. Most unfortunate.”

Combeferre sighed. “Weigh anchor,” he called out and the crew sprung into action. They sailed quickly away from the island, while Marius looked resolutely to the horizon and did not think about Enjolras.

*   *   *   *   *  

Montparnasse had not lost his taste for the dramatic. “Hello, _captain_ ,” he said, whipping his hat off and nodding. “It’s been a long time.”

“Too long, some would say.”

“And what would _you_ say?”

Enjolras pretended to consider. “Not long enough.”

Montparnasse laughed at that, throwing his head back. “True. Now, would you care to explain how you got off that island?”

“If you believe the stories, it was sea turtles,” Enjolras said.

Montparnasse yawned. “I’ve just remembered that I don’t care. Gentlemen, kill him.”

“The girl’s blood didn’t work, did it?” Enjolras asked before anyone could so much as draw a pistol.

Montparnasse sighed, turning back to face Enjolras. “You know whose blood we need.”

It was not a question.

Enjolras smiled, showing far too many teeth. “I know whose blood you need.”

*   *   *   *   *  

“May I pet him?” Cosette asked, staring happily up at the parrot perched on Joly’s shoulder. He nodded with a smile, keeping his focus on her hand, and Cosette reached up and petted Bossuet gently on the head.

“Lovely lady!” he squawked, and Cosette laughed.

“You’re quite handsome yourself,” she said seriously. “Every inch a gentleman.”

Bossuet preened, ruffling his feathers slightly.

“He likes you,” Musichetta said. “Admittedly, he likes almost everyone, but he seems quite taken with you.”

“Well, I’m quite taken with him,” Cosette said. “So it all works out.”

Joly tied off the bandage and patted Cosette’s hand, signaling he was done.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Cosette said, taking the medallion off from around her neck. “Marius, this is yours. Also, I’m afraid I gave the pirates your name as mine. I’m very sorry about that—I panicked, and you were the first person I thought of.”

Marius took the medallion carefully, staring at it as if he’d seen a ghost. “I remember this. It was a gift from my father before he died.” He curled his fist around the medallion. “Why did you take it?”

“You know what Commodore Javert is like,” Cosette said. “If I hadn’t taken it, he would have found it and considered it proof of piracy.”

“I suppose I owe you my thanks.”

Cosette smiled. “You’re quite welcome.”

“They didn’t need your blood,” Marius said, turning the medallion over in his hands. “They needed mine.”

Cosette put her hands over her mouth. “Oh, Marius, I’m sorry.”

Marius did not answer, and after a moment, Cosette followed Musichetta, Joly, and Bossuet up the stairs to the deck, leaving Marius alone with his thoughts.

*   *   *   *   *  

“Let me see if I have this straight,” Montparnasse drawled, propping his feet up on the table. “I give you the _Revenge_ and in return you leave me stranded on a beach with nothing but a name and your word that it’s the correct one?”

“Considering all you’ve taken from me in the past, I think it’s a fair trade,” Enjolras said. “Besides, I’m the only one here that hasn’t committed mutiny, so I think my word counts for rather a lot.”

“Captain,” Gueulemer said, appearing at the doorway. “We’re coming up on the _Interceptor_.”

Montparnasse rose and hurried out the door, Enjolras hot on his heels. “I’m having a thought here,” Enjolras said, putting himself in between Montparnasse and the _Interceptor_. “Run up a flag of truce, and I can negotiate the return of your medallion.”

Montparnasse turned to face Enjolras, a faint smile on his lips. “That’s the difference between you and me, _Alexandre_. People are far easier to search when they’re dead. Gueulemer, take our guest to the brig.”

*   *   *   *   *  

When Cosette emerged onto the deck, it was utter chaos. Weaving her way in and out of the sailors, she hurried to the helm where Courfeyrac was gripping the wheel and Combeferre had a spyglass pressed to his eye.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“The _Revenge_ is gaining on us,” Courfeyrac said, her eyes locked on the pursuing ship.

Cosette frowned. “This is the fastest ship in the Caribbean.”

“Aye,” Courfeyrac said, rolling her eyes. “Be sure to tell them that when they’ve caught us.”

Cosette remembered when the Interceptor was new. Her father had been inordinately proud of it, rattling off specifications and features left and right.

“We’re shallow on the draft, right?” Cosette asked.

Courfeyrac raised her eyebrows. “Aye.”

“Then we can lose them,” Cosette said, scanning the ocean. “There, among those shoals.”

“We don’t have to outrun them long,” Combeferre said thoughtfully. “Just long enough.”

Courfeyrac gave a rather predatory smile. “All right, _cariño_ ,” she said, patting the ship’s wheel. “Let’s see what you can do. All hands, lighten the ship!”

Cosette ran down to the main deck and began pitching things over the side with the others. She was helping Feuilly throw a cannon overboard when he suddenly stopped.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, putting her end of the cannon down.

“They’ve brought out oars,” he said, shading his eyes with his hand. “We’re…we’re probably going to need these.”

Cosette turned on her heel and bolted back up to the helm. “What do we do now?”

“There’s not much we can do,” Courfeyrac said.

“We can fight,” Marius said, appearing at Cosette’s shoulder.

“I like your attitude,” Courfeyrac said. “But what do we fight with?”

“Anything we have left,” Combeferre said. “Load the guns!”

“Problem,” Courfeyrac said, squinting at the other ship. “She’s coming up on the port quarter. She’ll take us out without ever presenting a target.”

“Lower the anchor on the right side,” Cosette said suddenly. The assembled pirates just stared at her. “Er—the starboard side?”

Courfeyrac’s face split into a broad grin. “That’s just daft enough to work! Lower the starboard anchor!” She released the wheel and grabbed onto a nearby rope. “You’re going to want to hold onto something.”

The ship swung around, throwing everyone to the ground. Cosette scrambled to her feet and found a gun, lining up near Musichetta and Marius. The _Interceptor_ drew even with _Marianne’s Revenge_ , and Cosette could see her former captors pointing cannons at her.

“Fire all!” she heard Courfeyrac roar behind her, and Cosette took a deep breath and fired.

She did not know much about naval battles, but even she could tell they were outnumbered and outgunned.

“We could use a few more ideas, lass,” Combeferre said, shooting a bullet directly into an enemy pirate’s skull.

“I’ve used all my ideas for the day,” Cosette said, resorting to smacking a pirate with the butt of her gun. “It’s someone else’s turn.”

“Why don’t we just give her back?” Musichetta said. “No offense, Miss Cosette, but I don’t really want to die today.”

“None taken,” Cosette said. “Besides, they’re not after me. Marius, where’s the medallion?”

Marius’s face went pale, and he raced below decks. Cosette turned back to the fighting, a bad feeling settling in her stomach.

*   *   *   *   *  

Enjolras may not have liked the fact that his crew was blowing holes in his ship, but when a cannonball took out the lock on his cell, he had to admit it was convenient. He let himself out and slipped up to the deck, passing unnoticed through his old crew. Grabbing a nearby rope from what appeared to be a fallen mast, he swung across the short divide to the _Interceptor_ and smacked into one of the mutinous crewmembers that was threatening Cosette.

“I would feel bad about that,” Enjolras said, watching the man plunge into the water. “But it’s not like he’s going to die, anyway. Do you have the medallion?”

“No, Marius has it,” Cosette said, frowning slightly. “He—where is he?”

She darted off and Enjolras quickly lost sight of her. He did, however, gain sight of Montparnasse’s damned monkey—with the medallion in its teeth.

He lunged to his feet, racing after it, and managed to catch up with it right as it made its way to Montparnasse.

“Thank you, Alexandre,” he said smoothly.

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “I suppose you expect me to say you’re welcome?”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Montparnasse said. “We named the money Alexandre.”

“Of course you did.”

*   *   *   *   *  

Cosette ran to the stairs below deck, only to find the hatch barricaded and the room filling up with water.

“Marius!” she yelled, pulling at the debris. “Can you hear me?”

“Cosette, get out of here!” Marius replied. “Go somewhere safe!”

“We’re in the middle of the ocean, Marius,” she said. “Where am I supposed to go?”

Before Marius could answer, a pair of arms grabbed her around the waist, hauling her back towards the _Revenge._ Marius was still trapped, and no amount of kicking and screaming did her any good. She was shoved against the mast, tied up with the others, and soon enough, they’d detached from the wreck of the _Interceptor_ and sailed a safe distance away.

“Now, you lot better not _think_ of asking for _parley_ ,” Azelma said while Cosette tried to wiggle out of the ropes.

As soon as she managed to break free, the _Interceptor_ exploded—with Marius still on board.

She stumbled back, horrified, and noticed Montparnasse staring at the wreckage with a satisfied smile on her face. Rage welled up in her chest, and she charged forward, arms out.

“You absolute _bastard!”_ she shrieked, raining blows down on his head.

“Nice to see you again, Miss,” Montparnasse said, holding her back with no trouble at all. “You know you took advantage of our hospitality.”

“I can’t say I’m sorry for that,” she snarled.

“Montparnasse!” a voice boomed from the railing. “She goes free!”

They turned to see Marius standing on the edge of the ship, soaking wet, with a pistol pointed at Montparnasse’s heart.

“What’s in your head, boy?” Montparnasse asked.

“She goes free,” Marius repeated.

Montparnasse was not impressed. “You only have one shot, and we can’t die.”

Marius clearly had not considered this. “You can’t,” he said slowly. “But I can.” He grabbed a hold of the rigging, leaning over the water, and pointed the pistol at his head.

“Who are you?” Montparnasse asked.

“Nobody,” Cosette said. “He’s nobody, really, just one of my father’s servants, really not anyone of note—”

“My name is Marius Pontmercy,” Marius said. “My father was Georges Pontmercy. You want to break the curse, I’m your only shot.”

Montparnasse was silent for a moment. “Name your terms.”

“Cosette goes free!”

“Yes, we know that one,” Montparnasse said. “Anything else?”

“The crew is not to be harmed!” Marius said.

Montparnasse smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Agreed.”


	6. Chapter 6

“Okay,” Cosette muttered to herself, staring down into the ocean from the rickety plank she’d been shoved onto. “This could probably be worse.”

“Montparnasse, you lying bastard!” Marius snarled, struggling against the pirate holding him. “You swore she’d go free!”

“I did, didn’t I?” Montparnasse said, a slight smile on his lips. “But _you_ failed to specify when or where. So I’ve chosen to set her free here.” He paused, turning back to Cosette. “Of course, the dress still belongs to me. It wouldn’t be responsible to let something that fashionable go. So I’ll be taking that back, Miss.”

Cosette groaned, slipping out of the dress. “I wish you the joy of it,” she said as sarcastically as she could manage, throwing the dress over.

“Thank you,” Montparnasse said, saluting her. “Now, off you go.”

Cosette took a deep breath, gave Marius what she hoped was an encouraging smile, and jumped. The swim to the island in the distance looked incredibly far, but she wasn’t going to get there by treading water.

After a few moments, she heard another splash behind her. She turned to see Enjolras swimming up to her.

“You too?” she asked sympathetically.

Enjolras flicked a waterlogged strand of hair out of his face. “Unfortunately. And, to add insult to injury, this is the same island I was marooned on last time this happened.”

Cosette winced. “Well, let’s get to shore. We can figure things out from there.”

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally reached the beach. Cosette lay there for a moment, trying to catch her breath, while Enjolras merely stared at the retreating red sails of the _Revenge._

“That’s the second time I’ve had to watch that man sail away with my ship and my crew,” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Cosette said. “We’ll get them back.”

*   *   *   *   *  

“So, I know you were stranded here before—Musichetta said something about sea turtles,” Cosette said, following Enjolras through the trees. “I don’t suppose that’ll work more than once.”

“The sea turtles thing was a load of rubbish,” Enjolras said, stamping down the ground around him. His foot struck a particular spot, and he bent down and opened up a hidden hatch Cosette hadn’t seen. “Some rum runners used the island as a cache, and I was able to barter passage when they came by.”

“Oh,” Cosette said, faintly disappointed. “Will that work this time?”

Enjolras reached into the hiding spot and pulled out a dusty bottle of rum. “I doubt it. They’ve been out of business for a while, looks like, most likely thanks to your Commodore Javert.” He sat down, letting Cosette take the bottle from him. “The situation is grim. You seem like a nice enough girl. I’m sorry you got mixed up in all this.”

“I’m not,” Cosette said, sitting down next to him. “Apart from the terror and near-death situations, I’m rather enjoying myself.”

“Hopefully we can come up with a plan, and you can continue enjoying yourself,” Enjolras said.

“Well, my vote is sit here and get drunk for the night,” Cosette said, waving the bottle of rum in the air. “We can think of a plan in the morning.

“I don’t drink.”

“You don’t drink?” Cosette asked, incredulous. “You don’t drink, you don’t like to threaten people—what kind of pirate are you? Why even _be_ a pirate?”

Enjolras chuckled. “My mother was a slave,” he said, staring out over the waves. “She led a revolt, stole a ship, and turned to piracy.”

“So you grew up on the ship?”

“I did. Spent my childhood climbing the rigging and bothering the sailors. I’m sure I irritated people, but my mother found it amusing.”

Cosette smiled, charmed. “She sounds lovely.”

Enjolras smiled slightly, eyes distant. “She is.”

“So,” Cosette said slowly, “women pirates—are they common?”

“Quite common,” Enjolras replied. “Pirates are a very diverse group.”

Cosette was quiet. “Are there pirates from Singapore?”

“Of course,” Enjolras said. “Singapore is a bustling hub of pirate activity.”

“I’m from Singapore, you know. Papa doesn’t like me to talk about it,” Cosette said. “It’s hard enough without spreading the story around—I don’t look like a nice English girl, really. It’s the eyes, I think.”

Enjolras said nothing, waiting for her to go on.

“My mother was a prostitute,” Cosette continued. “I’m not sure who my father is—Papa never knew. He was on a trip to visit the colonies in Asia, and found my mother on the street. She was dying, and she knew it, so she begged him to take me.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras said.

Cosette shrugged. “I never knew her, so it doesn’t bother me overmuch.”

“Still,” Enjolras said. “It’s a sad thing to lose a mother.”

Cosette wrapped her arms around her knees. “Could we maybe not talk about this any more?” she said quietly. “Really, we should focus on escaping.”

“Right you are,” Enjolras said, looking around. “What do we have?”

“Lots of sand,” Cosette said. “Palm trees. Your pistol. Rum.”

“You know,” Enjolras said, gazing at the bottle in Cosette’s hand, “we could set the rum on fire.”

Cosette raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

We set a fire, throw the rum into it, therefore making the fire bigger,” Enjolras said. “Add in the palm trees and we’ll have a hell of a smoke signal.”

Cosette smiled. “Which is exactly the kind of thing my father will have the Royal Navy out looking for.” She paused, suddenly worried. “But they’ll find you too, won’t they?”

“Don’t worry about me, Cosette,” Enjolras said. “I’ve yet to find someone who can both take _and_ keep me prisoner for very long. Now come on, let’s start a fire.”

It didn’t take long to get a plume of smoke to rise high up in the air. Cosette spent far more time than was necessary throwing boxes of rum into the flames and watching the resulting explosions.

“All right, that should be good,” Enjolras said, coming up next to Cosette. “I give it an hour, maybe two, before we see white sails on the horizon.”

Cosette flopped down on the sand. “Wake me up when they get here.”

It seemed she’d barely closed her eyes when Enjolras was gently shaking her awake. “Come on, Cosette,” he said with a grin, helping her up. “Our carriage awaits.”

*   *   *   *   *  

“But we have to save Marius!”

“Absolutely not,” Governor Fauchelevent said, drawing his daughter closer. “You’re safe now. That’s the only thing that matters.”

“We can’t just leave him there,” Cosette said, pushing away. “They’re going to kill him!”

“Unfortunate, to be sure,” Javert said. “But he broke the law, and there’s no going back from that.”

“This does present you with an opportunity to catch one of the last real pirate threats in these waters,” Enjolras interjected. “That’s got to be a temptation.”

“One that’s easily avoided,” Javert said with a glare.

“For someone like you, maybe,” Enjolras said, glaring right back. “But—”

“ _Listen to me, damn you!_ ”

The men turned, jaws dropping slightly.

“ _Cosette!_ ” Governor Fauchelevent said, shocked.

“I’m in my underthings in front of a large number of the Royal Navy for the second time in recent memory, and I’ve spent a significant amount of time lately in the close company of pirates,” Cosette said, crossing her arms. “I hardly think propriety matters right now, given the circumstances. Now are you going to rescue Marius or not?”

“I think this display proves that we shouldn’t,” Javert said.

Cosette raised an eyebrow. “Fine. Come along, Captain.”

She grabbed the back of Enjolras’s coat, dragged him to the railing, and pushed him overboard.

“Captain Enjolras and I are going to rescue Marius,” she said, turning back to the assembled crowd. “You are, of course, welcome to join us at any time.”

And with that, she turned and dove over the edge herself.

“Far be it from me to question your judgment, but you do know that we can’t actually _swim_ to Isla de Muerta, right?” Enjolras said as Cosette swam up to him.

“Of course not,” Cosette said. “That would be ridiculous and absurd.” She turned away and started to swim towards open water.

Enjolras quickly swam after her. “Because it looks rather a lot like you’re planning to swim to Isla de Muerta.”

“It’s simple,” Cosette said, swimming forward. “My father will agree to rescue Marius because the alternative is that I’ll keep trying to swim and rescue him myself. I rescue Marius, you get your ship back, and everyone gets what they want.”

“Everyone except our respectable Navy friends,” Enjolras muttered. “Not that I particularly mind.”

“It’s been a long-held belief of mine that respectable men don’t know what they want,” Cosette said. “For example, my father says that he wants nothing more than my happiness, but consistently refuses to allow me to do the things that make me happy, so clearly what he thinks he wants isn’t what he actually wants. The way I see it,” she continued, ignoring the shouts from the ship, “is if respectable men don’t even know what they want, how can they decide what’s best for the rest of us?”

Enjolras stopped swimming and stared at her, considering. “You aren’t at all what I’d expect from a governor’s daughter, you know.”

“My mother is a foreign prostitute,” Cosette said, shrugging. “I can only assume I inherited some of her disrespectability.”

A small rowboat pulled up neatly beside Cosette and Enjolras. “Hello, Miss Fauchelevent.”

“Good day, Mr. Prouvaire, Mr. Bahorel,” Cosette said, resting her arms on the boat’s edge. “I assume my father send you?”

“That he did, Miss Fauchelevent,” Bahorel said. “We’re to tell you that both he and the commodore have agreed to rescue Mr. Pontmercy.”

Cosette flashed a triumphant smile over her shoulder as she clambered into the rowboat. “I told you.”

“You certainly did,” Enjolras said, following her. “You're very clever, Cosette. I may have slightly underestimated you.”

Cosette smirked, settling back. “Don’t feel bad, Captain. Most people do.”

*   *   *   *   *  

The brig of _Marianne’s Revenge_ was a dank, fowl place. The rest of the crew was together, at least, but Marius was isolated in a cell as far away from the others as could be managed. Two small pirates—Gavroche and Azelma, Marius thought there names were—were mopping the floor, but only managed to make it nastier.

“You knew Georges Pontmercy, correct?” Marius asked.

“Aye,” Azelma said. “He was a good man. A bit _too_ good, really.”

“He didn’t think we should have marooned the captain,” Gavroche said. “So he sent the coin to you, figuring we’d never find it and remain cursed forever.”

“Pissed off Captain Montparnasse, though,” Azelma said. “So he strapped your da to a cannon and threw him overboard.”

Marius leaned his head against the bars, starting to feel slightly ill.

“Course, it was only after that we learned we needed his blood to lift the curse,” Azelma said.

Gavroche snorted. “I believe that’s what you call ‘ironic’.”

“I think it’s just called horrible,” Marius said, knuckles whitening around the bars.

“It’s all a matter of perspective, boyo,” Azelma said, leaning into his space. “What’s horrible for you is just another day for us.”

“Glad to see you’re making _friends_ , Azelma,” Montparnasse said, appearing at the door.

Azelma reddened and looked down. “Sorry, captain.”

He tossed Gavroche the keys. “We’re ready for Mr. Pontmercy now.”

“Aye captain,” Gavroche said, catching the keys. “No need to worry, Mr. Pontmercy. A prick of the finger, a drop of blood—it’ll be over before you know it.”

“Listening to Miss Cosette was a mistake,” Montparnasse said. “No mistakes this time. We’re spilling it all.”

Gavroche and Azelma snickered as they dragged him out of the cell. Marius did not protest, did not struggle. He’d told Enjolras that he would die for Cosette, almost an eternity ago, and his attitude had not changed. Cosette was on an island in the middle of nowhere, but she was almost certainly safer than she would be aboard this ship.

If he were to die today, it would be worth it.


End file.
